


Kahna

by Lizzyorbit



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Feyre will unfortunately not be making an appearance as this is all before her time, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Illyrian Camps, Original Character - Freeform, Original Female Illyrian Character, Pre-ACOTAR, Slow Burn, What is the cannon? I don't know her, Years and years of slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25104190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzyorbit/pseuds/Lizzyorbit
Summary: When Azriel first arrived at the Windheaven camp the first person to try to help him was a girl named Kahna. She and Azriel were close until the war stared and he had to leave her behind to serve the high lord as a spy. But the war lasts 7 years and when Az goes looking for Kahna after all that time, will he be able to find her? Rating may change as story progresses.
Relationships: Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 67





	1. Prologue: The Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the ACoTaR series or any of its characters they all belong to Sarah J Maas. I'm just borrowing them. Welcome to this. This is the first chapter of many, I think, I have a lot planned so we'll see what happens. This is all unbeta'd so any mistakes are between me and google drive not correcting me. Thanks for reading. Leave a comment and let me know what you think.

The boy laid curled in the dirt, shadows enveloping his whole body, as he had since he and a much older Illyrian warrior had landed in the center of the Windhaven camp minutes ago. None of the camp’s inhabitants dared approach the strange boy, though many had gathered around EF the outskirts of the camp center, watching the strange shadowed boy with some mixture of curiosity and fear. 

One young Illyrian girl, no older than fourteen, emerged through the gathered crowd, stepping into the space around the boy no one had dared to breach. 

“Kahna!” an Illyrian woman called from the other side of the crowd, the reprimand and warning clear in her voice. The small girl continued walking, though, head held high, up to the boy and knelt at his side. 

“Are you alright?” Kahna half whispered, not wanting to scare the boy. She couldn’t see his face, only the vague shape of him, his wings, wrapped in thick, fluid shadow. 

“I can’t- can’t see. Too bright,” the boy whispered back, his velvet soft voice sounding pained. 

Kahna’s thoughts were racing, splitting off in two different directions. Her main problem was how to help this boy who was clearly in pain, but in the back of her head she was assessing. It was overcast. Anyone who was pained by this amount of sunlight clearly hadn’t seen it in a while, a theory supported by the pale color of the small amount of skin she could catch sight of in the gaps the shadows left. 

“Okay, close your eyes, and keep them closed, but if you can maybe try and lighten up on the, uh, darkness around your head, if you can do that?” Kahna tried. She really had no idea what to do, but she wanted to help. 

The boy did as she said, and as the shadows lightened Kahna could make out some of the boy’s face, eyes scrunched shut, mouth twisted in a grimace. Kahna decided then and there that she was going to do everything she could to make this boy her friend and to keep from ever seeing such pain on his face again. 

“Kahna,” the voice was sharp, and came from the only person who could’ve made her look up at that moment. The camp lord was walking towards her from the south end of camp, the man who Kahna assumed was this boy’s father, or at least the man who had appeared with him, walking by his side.

“Lord Devlon, I-” Kahna did not know what she was about to say, but she wanted to tell him that the man he was with had clearly done something to this boy, hurt him somehow, wanted to say they needed to help him. All her words caught in the throat. Devlon looked quite pleased, and the man beside him looked relieved, like some great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Kahna could not risk saying anything against an ally of Devlon’s. Her parents were non-existent, her first memories of wandering alone in the woods, stumbling into the camp when she was perhaps 5 years old. She was considered a bastard and she would be dead by now, as she was unable to train as a warrior and win food and clothes in the ring like others did, if Devlon hadn’t offered her an arrangement: allowing her to take up some chores, washing, cooking, and cleaning for some of the new mothers, older Illyrians, or those who had lost loved ones, and in exchange he asked them to give her a meal every now and then, and allow her to have some of their old clothes. She owed the camp lord her life, and he still held it in his hands, for if he asked she was sure the families she worked for would no longer allow her to help, no longer offer her meals. 

“Step away, Kahna. Better yet, leave all together,” Delvon ordered when it was clear Kahna’s sentence didn’t have an end. 

Reluctantly, Kahna rose from her knees and stepped back, and back again, continuing until she was amidst the ring of bystanders. 

Devlon and the man approached the boy, still having not moved from his position curled on the ground. The man stopped a few paces away, but Devlon continued until he stood as close to the boy as Kahna had. He dropped to one knee and spoke a few quiet words that Kahna could not hear, hard as she tried, before extending a hand. And slowly a brutally scarred hand emerged from the mess of shadows and Devlon was pulling the boy to his feet. The moment the boy was stable on his feet, head and face still shrouded in darkness, the man standing a few paces away, took off into the air, flying off without a backward glance.

Devlon led the boy off toward his home and the watching crowd slowly dispersed, muttering about the strange boy and his scarred hands and his odd powers and the air of danger that was so obvious no one had dared to come close to him. Kahna just watched them all, hating the gossip that flowed easily through all of them, hating that they could see someone so young in so much pain and turn it into a spectacle. The only people keeping quiet were two young Illyrians, staring after the boy as Devlon led him away. The violet eyed high lord’s son and his friendly rival looked intrigued, like a new interesting opponent had just entered the game they considered life. Actually, that was probably exactly what they thought had just happened. Kahna turned away, irritation flaring anew, and headed up the hill toward the small encampment all the bastards lived in.

It was late that night when the boy appeared out of the darkness in front of her small tent. Kanha startled from where she was sitting looking up at the stars a few meters from her tent and was reaching for some non-existent weapon before the unnatural fluidity of the darkness surrounding him identified that it was the new boy. 

“Oh, hello,” Kahna’s voice was small, unsure. She was always nervous at night, out on the hill. She was the easiest target for anyone looking to start trouble, a bastard with no one to protect her, a woman with no training in fighting, and young, and out here there were few witnesses, and none who would do much if she started screaming. 

“Kahna? Right?” the boy asked, her voice soft, quieter than even hers as he took a step closer and Kahna managed to make out his face in the dim light of the moon. “I think that’s the name everyone was yelling while telling you to get away from me.” The smallest twist of his lips, maybe the ghost of a smile. “I’m Azriel.”

“I’m glad to see you’re alright. Or at least better, I suppose,” Kahna replied. It was true, she’d spent the better part of her evening chores, after being chewed out for her earlier actions by the woman she was cooking for, wonder what would become of the boy. “Are they having you sleep out here on the hill? I have some extra space over here you’re welcome to,” Kahna gestured to her makeshift tent. One of the older kids had taken pity on her when she’d first come to camp and helped her create a shelter for herself since she was too young to do it alone, and she just kept modifying and expanding it as she grew. She was a bit hopeful Devlon had sent the abandoned boy, Azriel, out here, because while she wouldn’t with the life of an Illyrian bastard on anyone, she could really use a friend and offering him her space would definitely be a step in that direction. 

Azriel’s hazel eyes shifted back and forth, sweeping the hill, the sky, her, but never making direct eye contact for longer than a second. 

“No actually, I have somewhere to stay, I came out here to find you. I wanted to thank you, for earlier. For trying to help,” Azriel said, so quietly Kahna could barely make out all the words. 

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just sorry no one else did the same. That everyone just stared at you,” Kahna replied. Azriel pursed his lips at that, seeming to think about it for a moment. 

“That’s a pretty typical reaction to me,” he said. He seems so tired, so broken down and bruised. And in typical Kahna fashion, she wanted to help, to make that sad look disappear from his face.

“That seems pretty rude to me, I mean, if they’re going to stare at you like it’s a form of entertainment they should at least have the decency to pay you for it,” she quipped. It worked. Azriel’s mouth twisted into that semi smile again. 

“I’ll make sure to tell everyone that next time,” he replied. Kahna smiled at him, and he smiled back at her. And that was the beginning.


	2. Notification of Impending Doom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading this and who left kudos on the last chapter. To the one person who bookmarked this, you and you alone are allowed to hold me accountable for continuing to write this. I hope you all like this, and if you do and you want to see more of me you can also find me on tiktok @orbitzo.

In the years after Azriel was dropped at Windhaven he attracted the eye of not only every surrounding camp leader, but the high lord himself. They saw the potential threat he posed and the asset he could be for them. Devlon did his best to keep Azriel close at hand, trying to keep him using his power for Devlon instead of against him. Which worked for approximately 30 seconds before he situated himself firmly on the threat side of things by becoming friends with everyone’s least favorite dynamic duo, Rhysand, the high lord’s heir, a half Illyrian, and Cassian, a bastard like herself, who’d been taken in by Rhysand’s mother, who had also taken Azriel under her roof. The three of them were all far more powerful than they had any right to be and formed a fast alliance that grew into friendship. But Azriel had always remembered her, the kind girl who’d come to him when no one else would, unafraid of his shadows, and they’d remained friends since. 

Azriel had tried, in the beginning, to meld his friends into one cohesive group. It had gone poorly. 

“Kahna! Come on over we don’t bite, unless you ask us too,” Cassian had called to her. Kahna promptly turned on her heel and tried to walk back the way she’d come. It was only Azriel’s restraining hand around her elbow that stopped her. 

“Please,” Azriel muttered to her, “Cass is an idiot, but he’s harmless.” Kahna sighed deeply trying to hold back from making a vulgar gesture at the boy. She’d tried to avoid Cassian and Rhysand since she’d come to camp. Cassian was the kind of kid who would one day make a great warrior, he loved a fight, never turned one down, and would lie, cheat, and steal to keep himself alive. But because of those qualities, at this age, he was quite the bully. And Rhysand was half fae, the high lord’s son, and powerful. She stayed clear of him on the advice of every member of camp she’d ever spoken to. 

She and Cassian had traded barbed comments for a good 5 minutes while Rhysand leaned lazily against a tree, simply grinning, before Azriel decided if he didn’t intervene Kahna would attempt to punch Cassian and end up with a broken bone or two. 

It was mostly Kahna’s fault honestly. Sure Cassian was insufferable, but Azriel was right he was harmless. It was just that she couldn’t let go of the ideas about those two drilled into her head by everyone else in camp, as much as she would’ve liked to think she was different, not so quick to judge. It irritated Azriel to no end, but he stuck by her with only the occasional lecture about not being a stubborn ass. Over the years they’d found a happy middle ground where she and Cassian mostly tolerated each other, she and Rhysand mostly ignored each other, and Azriel did his best to spend time with her, and the men he now considered brothers, separately. 

“Any space left around your fire tonight or are you busy entertaining guests?” the soft, familiar voice asked from behind her, and Kahna could hear the smile in it before she ever turned to face him. 

“Hey there stranger, I suppose you can sit if you can find yourself a space,” she joked, gesturing to the empty space around herself and her small fire. She was surprised to see Azriel. He’d been stuck to Rhysand and Cassian’s sides like glue the past week. Rhysand’s cousin Morrigan had come to visit and when she was around it would take nothing short of divine intervention to break Azriel from their little group. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?” she asked, unable to keep her curiosity at bay. Azriel rolled his eyes at her and one side of his mouth quirked up into a fond smile. 

“What? I can’t come visit my friend without an ulterior motive now?” Azriel asked in return, his tone light and teasing. 

“Not in the middle of the night when you have a nice warm bed you could be sleeping in. Now out with it.” Azriel’s small smile faded a little at her words. He stared down at her, the fire adding a second set of flicking shadows to the ones already skittering excitedly around him.

“Devlon’s actually going to let Rhys, Cas, and I into the Rite this year. I wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else. I’m sure it’ll be all over camp in the morning,” Azriel’s voice was quiet, gentle, but she could hear the undercurrent of disbelief and excitement in it. 

Kahna had to work hard to keep her practiced mask of neutrality on her face. She should have expected it. Even if they were bastards, Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel combined were a near unstoppable force in the camp, usually one of stupidity, but she should have guessed they’d eventually figure out how to apply themselves and find their way into the Rite. She should have felt pride and excitement for Azriel, for the opportunity he thought he’d never get, but she could not feel anything but dread. 

Azriel gently sat himself on the ground across the fire from her. “You’re not masking nearly as well as you think you are, Kahna,” Azriel smirked at her. “I taught you well, but not well enough to fool me.” 

Kahna dropped her eyes from his face to the fire. “I’m happy for you. Honestly. This is what you’ve wanted, all of you.” 

“And?” Azriel asked leaning forward, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his folded palms. 

“And that doesn’t mean I have to want this for you. Super murder hell mountain doesn’t really sound like a place I want anyone I care about anywhere near,” Kahna looked back up from the fire, into his eyes. “I’m just worried about you, I know how many people don’t come back from the Rite.” Azriel’s smile found its way back onto his face.

“It’s like you don’t know that Rhys, Cass, and I are objectively better than every other Illyrian warrior trainee. We’ll find each other and we’ll be fine.”

“It’s like you don't know that every other Illyrian in the Rite will be gunning for the three of you. It’s like you don’t know that they are gonna do their best to put you three as far apart as they can when they drop you in those woods. It’s like you don’t know that I can’t take a week of knowing you’re in constant danger and not being able to do anything about it,” Kahna whispered, all in one quick angry stream of words. The whole face twisted with something between anger and worry, the tan skin between her brows creasing deeply, making her look much older than twenty in the flickering light of the fire. 

Azriel stood suddenly, only to take two steps and gracefully fold himself back down onto the ground at her side, close enough to touch. His hand hovered in the air for a moment as though to settle itself on one of her crossed legs in a gesture of comfort, but with a sidelong glance at her it fell back into his own lap. 

“Kahna, I know. But it’s not just that we want to do this, we have to. We’re as strong as we can get as trainees, but we need to be stronger. We need to become full warriors. Mor told us it seems like something is brewing in the south, and even if nothing comes of it, within our very long lifetime war will find us, it’s inevitable. Rhys will lead this court one day, Cass and I with him, and we have to be prepared to protect it,” Azriel explained. His words were gentle but firm, not trying to scare her but just make her understand.

And she did. Some part of Kahna’s brain understood. She knew they’d been training for this, Rhysand and Cassian since birth, and Azriel ever since he’s come to camp. That was the culture of Illyria; boys trained to become warriors, there weren’t any other options. And they were powerful, all three of them, they needed proper training, without it their magic would be uncontrollable, everyone would be in danger. But none of those reasons, no matter whether or not she understood that this was necessary, could change the fact that she could not bear to see him in danger.

Azriel seemed to sense that his explanation did little to calm her. He exhaled sharply, and tipped his head back to look up at the stars.

“You just have to have a little faith in us,” he said. “I don’t know how to make you feel more comfortable with all of this. Unless, I guess, it’d help to watch me beat the shit out of one of the other trainees in the ring?” Azriel’s voice was still soft and serious but her practiced ear could detect the undertone of humor in it.

Kahna grinned, despite herself, and shook her head, though Azriel was still looking up. “Rhysand is a bad influence on you, you’re starting to sound just as arrogant.” That broke the tension. Azriel laughed loud and deep, earning a distant yell of “Shut the hell up!” from some other poor bastard on the hill who was actually attempting to sleep in the middle of the night. 

“Alright, I’m leaving before someone decides to come murder us to get some peace and quiet,” Azriel whispered, shooting a grin at her. He leaned over and bumped his shoulder against hers, and with that, he was gone, leaving Kahna alone in the dark, dread creeping back in.


	3. Goodbyes and the Waiting Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic hit 100 hits today and that's more than I ever actually expected this to get, especially with only two chapters so thank you so much to everyone who's reading it. I knew this chapter was going to be a little longer, but it somehow it ended up longer than the previous two chapters combined so I hope you all like it. Leave me a comment letting me know what you think.

Every year, the seven days of the Rite were rife with tension of those left behind. For all their pride in their culture and their warriors there was no way to erase the fear every parent felt when sending their son into what they knew was a deadly battle against not only the others but nature itself. All the goodbyes that had to be as thorough as a last parting, because they very well could be. 

“You come back without him,” Kahna started, looking between Rhysand and Cassian, her dark eyes narrowed into slits, “and you will wish you did not come back at all.” Azriel’s laugh rang out from beside her, and Cassian and Rhysand just grinned down at her. 

“I promise, we’ll bring him back safe and sound,” Rhysand said. “We wouldn’t want to incur your deadly wrath.” The sarcasm was apparent, and a bit insulting. Cassian just winked at her before the two turned and started off toward the group of loosely assembled warriors who would be leaving shortly. 

One of Azriel’s hands curled around her upper arm, his skin rough with scars and calluses, and as she turned to face him the other moved up her opposite arm till it matched. Thumbs brushing slowly across her skin, Azriel looked down at her, staring her right in the eyes and said “I will be fine. I swear. Please do your best not to worry too much. If you can keep yourself safe and out of trouble for a single week then I’ll meet you back here.”

Another warrior passed them headed in the direction Rhysand and Cassian had gone, and gave Azriel a sidelong glance. Azriel dropped his hands from her arms back to his sides. 

“It’s time for me to go,” Azriel told her solemnly.

“It’s not too late to make a run for it with me, you know,” Kahna said with a forced smile. She wanted to step forward and reach up and hug him but her body was frozen and she couldn’t make her feet move. 

Azriel shook his head at her, a real smile on his face. He took a long look at her, then turned and walked off, standing tall and proud, toward where his brothers waited without a backward glance.

Kahna spent the entire week throwing herself into work around the camp, assisting anyone she could on top of her assigned chores. The day Azriel had left she’d been so thorough in cleaning the home of one of the elderly women in camp, Lorra, she’d been offered both dinner and a piece of black scrap fabric that would do well to patch the hole on the inner thigh of one of her pairs of pants. Lorra had been on her own for many years; she had lost a husband to the last war, a son to the Rite, and a daughter to childbirth. Her son in law and grandson had been transferred to a different camp not long after. As Kahna leaned against the spotless countertop of Lorra’s kitchen, wings flared slightly so her lower back could press comfortably against the wood, holding a plate of roasted meat and potatoes, she realized this might not have been the ideal person for her to spend time with today. 

“I know you’re worried Kahna. I know that look,” Lorra observed, looking up from her own plate where she sat at her dark wood table. Kahna looked away and hummed noncommittally before speeding up her eating. She would really rather not talk about it. Her friendship with Azriel was well known around campus and a source of endless gossip. She should have guessed people would want to offer her the same empty reassurances they offered the families. 

“Your boy will be alright,” Lorra said, twisting in her chair, away from the table, to face Kahna. Kahna opened her mouth to primarily explain that Azriel was not ‘hers’ and secondarily that the word boy seemed like a poor fit for someone over six feet tall, but Lorra had already moved on. 

“My son, Naal, he was gone before you were even born, but I’m sure you know he died during the Rite,” she phrased it like a question, so Kahna nodded. “I was devastated, looking over the warriors when they arrived back and camp and I couldn’t find his face among them,” Lorra continued, her stare was far away. “I asked them, later, the ones who came back I mean, if they’d seen him, if they knew how he died. One of them, Eno, was able to tell me what he was pretty sure had happened. 

He told me it was the fifth day and he had taken shelter in one of the larger caves about three quarters of the way up the mountain and was going to stay there for the night. The previous night he’d seen one man try and scale his way up the mountain all night in a bid to get ahead of the pack. I suppose he thought if he could just survive the cold for one full night he’d be so close to the top that he wouldn’t have to endure another. Eno told me after about 4 hours the man's fingers were so blackened with frostbite that they snapped clean off and he slid down the slope of the mountain, unable to get a hand hold before it was too late. He said everyone on the mountain had heard the screams.”

Kahna had stopped eating at this point and her stomach was rolling. She did not want these images in her head. She knew they’d be stuck there for a very long time. She placed her unfinished plate gently on the counter and started edging toward the door. 

“But he said after that he wasn’t taking his chances on another night without warmth so he went deep in the cave, looking to attempt a fire without the light being visible from the outside. But he found a small tunnel system and he went exploring hoping it might lead upward. He said he ended up in a whole cave system that may others had already found and were taking shelter within. He said he passed my boy, and neither of them wanted to attack the other so they just passed in peace. But shortly after he came upon a group he’d encountered a couple of days earlier that he knew to be particularly blood thirsty. He hid and they passed him without incident but he said they were headed in the direction of my boy. He said he assumed they’d killed him, since he hadn’t come home.” Lorra’s gaze lost her far away look and snapped to Kahna who was pressed against the wall near the door, looking pale. She froze under the stare. “Do you know why I’m telling you this Kahna?”

“No,” the word came out sounding breathy and broken. 

“Because the older warriors take bets on who will come back and who won’t and sometimes they let me in on it, and because I am the best at it. To survive the Rite you have to be able to survive the elements, you have to be good in a fight, and you have to be strong, yes. But you also need to be smart. That’s the most important one. You have to know when to hide and when to run and when to attack. Eno knew when to hide and that’s why, I think, he made it home and my son didn’t. I can always pick the ones now, who aren’t smart enough to back down from a fight and who don’t realize they beat the combined force of every other Illyrian on that mountain. Your boy and his friends? They’re smart ones. A few years ago I might’ve bet against Cassian, but those other two made him smarter I think. That’s why they’ll make it home.” 

Kahna turned and slipped out the door without another word. She spent the rest of the evening sitting in her tent staring out into the sky and trying not to think.

After that, on days when the work ran out before nightfall she did her best to avoid everyone at camp, fearing someone would want to talk to her to try and reassure her. She took to surreptitiously hanging around Rhysand’s mother’s home. Not only was it on the edge of camp and hence, there were less people to hide from, but if anyone would manage to get an update on the fate of a warrior in the Rite before it was over it would be the high lord's mate. Kanha actually hoped beyond measure she wouldn’t receive any news. If Rhysand’s mother was getting news before the week was up it would be because her son, the high lord’s heir, was dead. And Azriel and Cassian would surely follow soon after him. 

She was leaning against a tree a few meters into the woods staring at the back of the house. The sun was starting to set low in the sky and a cold wind from the north would bring snow tonight. It had been four days. Assuming they weren’t dead, the three of them should be long off the ground by now, somewhere on the mountain. It was probably already snowing up there, colder too. Her mind flashed to images of frostbitten fingers. She shut herself down, trying to clear her mind, taking a calming breath. Memories of hypothermic warriors coming back from scouting missions where it was too noticeable to start a fire. The shaking. The moment the shaking slowed, then stopped and the confusion and lethargy took over. The nail of her index finger scratched rhythmically at the skin of her thumb. Another deep breath. He’d be fine. They’d all be fine. She had to believe that or she would start breaking down. 

“Kahna,” a voice called from behind her. She pushed herself off the tree to stand straight and turned to find Rhysand’s sister, Ilya, walking toward her, emerging from deeper in the wood, with a sad half smile. “Trolling for news? We’ve got nothing.”

Kahna stiffened. She didn’t think she’d been so obvious about it and Ilya was looking at her with too much understanding in her eyes. 

“It’s a hard week for all of us. Why don’t you come in, have some tea?” Kahna was hesitant but couldn’t really remember the last time she’d had a warm cup of tea, so she nodded at Ilya and followed the younger girl when she turned and started walking. 

They walked around to the front of the house and Ilya opened the door and allowed Kahna inside. The interior of the house was fairly spacious. The front door opened into a cozy living area with comfortable looking furniture. To the right was a sizable kitchen with a large table and serval chairs, one of which seemed to have been recently repaired, which led Kahna to wonder how any of the furniture was still intact with three Illyrian warrior trainees living here. In between the two rooms was a hallway that led toward the back of the house and, Kahna assumed, the bedrooms. 

Ilya led her into the kitchen and lit the stove before placing a kettle upon it. She dug around in the cupboards for a moment, while Kahna leaned awkwardly against a wall, before she emerged with a jar of loose tea leaves. They were quiet as the water boiled and Ilya poured it into two mugs with an unmeasured amount of tea leaves. Kahna simply watched, tense and unsure.

Ilya’s mother emerged from down the hall, glancing from Kahna to Ilya as she passed, raising one eyebrow but keeping silent as she walked out the front door. Kahna suppressed a grimace at the look, that woman had always intimidated her. 

“Ignore her, she just doesn’t like people who don’t like Rhys,” Ilya said with a wave of her hand before passing Kahna an earthenware mug, now filled with steaming water and shooed her toward the table. Kahna sat down in one of the chairs and Ilya followed, seating herself across the table from Kahna, a similar mug placed gently on the table in front of her.

The warm tea cupped in both hands and the assurance of no one but Ilya attempting to talk to her calmed Kahna, releasing the tension in her shoulders and jaw she didn’t realize she had been holding. 

“Thanks,” Kahna sighed as she relaxed back into her chair. 

“Of course. So, tell me, Az said you once got so annoyed with him because he hadn’t talked to you in a week that you showed up at the training ring where he was sparring, threw a rock at his head, and left. Please tell me that’s true,” Ilya said, leaning forward. That surprised Kahna. She’d been expecting the typical ‘how are you holding up’ kind of question, but she supposed Ilya was probably just as tired of it as she was. She took a long sip of tea.

“It is. He told you about that?” It wasn’t one of her proudest moments.

“Oh yeah, he talks about you all the time. You should see how we all tease Az about it, most of the time he just ignores us, but Rhys is getting really good at getting under his skin.” Ilya smiled warmly.

“And you wonder why I dislike your brother,” Kahna said, the sarcasm heavy.

“Well firstly no I don't, I know why you dislike him, and secondly it’s all in good fun. You don’t have siblings, it’s a thing you know. Rhys and I are at each other’s throats half the time but we’re still family, we never mean any harm by it.” Ilya said, rolling her eyes.

“What do you mean you know why I dislike him?” Kahna was honestly confused. She’d never spoken to Ilya directly. Never even interacted with her other than the occasional acknowledging nod in passing. 

“It’s the same reason everyone else has, obviously. I’m not stupid you know. You spend most of your time with the camp elders and the gossiping wives of high ranking warriors. Az told me they were pretty much the only people you talked to for years, until he came here. I’m sure they drilled into you exactly what they thought about us. Half-breeds. That Rhys has no right to be a warrior. That mom escaped her fate and shouldn’t have. She shouldn’t be allowed to have her ability to fly and neither should I. That our dad has no right to control Illyria. All of it.”

“You invited me into your house for tea assuming that’s what I think about you all?”

Ilya shrugged, like it didn’t bother her whatsoever. “Doesn’t matter if you’re a dick, you’re still Az’s friend.”

Kahna raised her eyebrows. “Aren’t you a little young for that kind of language?” If she remembered correctly the girl was around thirteen. Ilya stared at her in disbelief.

“I live with Rhys. And Cassian. And Azriel. All the time.” 

Kahna sucked on her lower lip and gave a resigned tilt of her head. “Fair enough, I suppose, I can’t imagine the three of them in combination are a particularly stellar influence on anyone’s vocabulary,” she paused then, trying to get back to the point, about what Ilya thought of her. “You’re right though, I have been told all those things about your family, but that doesn’t mean I believe any of it. Nothing about you or your parents. Especially about your wings. Trust me I wish I could still fly. That’s not something I think anyone should lose. And with Rhysand I guess I shouldn’t even say I dislike him. I do tend to avoid him and that is in part because people have told me I should but it’s also just… he’s powerful. And not particularly well liked. I survive on the kindnesses of others, and I can’t afford for people to decide they don’t want me to help around their house because I'm connected to the high lord’s son.”

“You’re friends with Azriel,” Ilya pointed out. It came out as more of an accusation than anything else. 

“Yes and that still put me on tenuous ground in the beginning, and the leadership around here like him better than Rhysand. There were two families who stopped feeding me after I became friends with Az,” Kahna explained.

“If some people stopped feeding you, our mom would. Other people would. Not everyone thinks people deserve to starve for having friends. Besides, I hear you’re decently well liked on your own merits. The old people like you. Which actually might be a mark against you personality wise now that I think about it. But if you can get over yourself enough to realize you should change your mind about Rhys, there’s people who will protect you,” Ilya said and with the last part her voice turned serious.

Kahna sighed and drummed her fingers against the side of her mug. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.” She was stubborn. Azriel had called her out on that many times after he’d tried to convince her to hang around him, Cassian, and Rhysand in private, if she was so concerned with other people's opinions, and she’d still refused. But for all the times he had tried to convince her that it was just lingering stubbornness that prevented her from liking his friend, nothing had worked so well as sitting with Rhysand’s sister and realizing she was a far better person than any of the people who had told her to avoid Ilya and her family.

The tension that had built between them eased as Ilya gave her a half shrug and asked her another question about Azriel. The conversation moved on and flowed easily over several topics, but the topic of Rhysand stuck in her mind. 

Both mugs of tea were empty when Ilya’s mother reentered her home, not bothering to glance at Kahna and Ilya this time and headed straight into the main room of the house. However, the house was open enough that she could still watch them from where she had positioned herself. 

“I can feel your mother’s eyes burning holes in the back of my head so I’m going to head out,” Kahna whispered before standing. She stretched, feeling something in her back crack, then picked up the empty mug from the table and placed it in the sink. She had the urge to wash it, after years of cleaning kitchens, but something about Ilya’s mother made her want to leave as quickly as possible.

“Sure. I’ll talk to her once you’ve gone, and you’ll be welcome back anytime,” Ilya responded in the same quiet tone.

“Seriously?” Kahna asked, a little hopeful. It sounded nice, to have somewhere she could pop into whenever she wanted.

“Yeah, I think I can see how Az manages to put up with you. You’re almost entertaining. Then again, maybe I’m just going insane,” Ilya teased.

Kahna looked down at the girl still seated at the table. “You’re a brat, you know that?” The words were not biting, quite the opposite, something close to fondness colored her tone, and a smile played at the corners of her lips.

Ilya raised her mug in a silent ‘cheers’, smirking, “And you’re a bastard.”

Leaving, Kahna realized she was the least stressed she’d been since Az had left. So, for the next three days, she spent her evenings having tea with Ilya. But even Ilya’s light teasing and unrelenting confidence in her brothers couldn’t completely sooth her worries once she was alone.

Sleep had been difficult all week, the wind and light snow only adding to the already harsh chill of night and when mixed with her anxieties it meant her nights were near sleepless. She kept a low fire burning, one of many out on the hill tonight, and moved her small tent as close as was safe before curling up inside, wrapping her wings around herself as tightly as she could to keep warm. It worked well, she’d been on the hill for many winters now and knew how to survive, but she couldn’t shut out the worries as effectively as she could the cold. 

She tried to calm herself. Remembering flying was usually the easiest way, especially after her conversation earlier that evening with Ilya had turned to how much they both loved it. The feeling of complete freedom, the wind whipping across her face as she raced across the open sky, the ground just a blur beneath her. It was somehow both the most relaxing feeling and also the biggest adrenaline rush all at once. She had loved it like nothing else. 

She’d been just over thirteen when she’d first bled. She had kicked and screamed as one of the older warriors dragged her to the center of camp, but she’d never had a chance of overpowering him. The quick cut to each wing had barely hurt. The physical pain was nothing to the feeling of being permanently grounded. The loss of the ultimate freedom. She had cried for days even getting so desperate she'd taken one of her sewing needles and the thickest thread she could scavenge and tried to stitch the muscle back together. She had passed out from the pain of that endeavor after only three stitches. The next day, as Kahna cooked dinner for the pregnant wife of one of the busier warriors, the woman had spotted the marks and gently explained to Kahna that even if she did manage to sew her flesh back together, it would never heal properly enough to fly again. 

It had been years now and she still missed the freedom of flying and though her wings no longer served any purpose but to mark her as Illyrian and keep her warm, she loved them still. One day, she hoped, one day she’d figure out a way to undo what had been done to her. She would fly again. It was that thought that let her find enough peace to finally sleep, imagining soaring off into the sky once again, and feeling the wind whip through her hair.


	4. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little longer than I would like since I've updated but here it is. Thank to everyone reading, leave a comment letting me know what you think. Also, I proofread this even less than usual (and the bar for my usual proofreading is on the ground) so feel free to leave me a comment correcting my grammar or spelling if need be.
> 
> Unrelated to this story, I will no longer be listening to any music other than folklore but Taylor Swift because it is an incredible album.

When she woke to find someone standing over her in the early morning light, Kahna shot up into a seated position, hands scouring the ground behind her for something to defend herself with. Her heart was beating out of her chest as she blinked rapidly, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the dim light. It took a few seconds to register that it was Ilya standing there above her, but once she did her racing heart nearly stopped altogether. Her throat tightened and her eyes began to burn as her mind raced, assuming the worst possible reason for Ilya’s presence. Ilya seemed to realize Kahna’s blind panic at the unexpected wake up call and spoke quickly.

“They’re all fine. Mom just got word. All three of them. They should be back by this afternoon.” Ilya’s face shone with a proud smile that eclipsed the dark circles under her eyes. Kahna had to work not to collapse in relief. 

“Oh thank the Mother,” she sighed, relief clear in her voice.

“Yeah, sorry, I thought you would want to know as soon as possible,” Ilya apologized, her smile growing somewhat sheepish.

“No, you’re right. Thank you. I really don’t think my nerves would have lasted much longer.”

Ilya laughed. “It did seem that way. Anyway, that’s all I’ve got, so I’m going home. It’s cold out here.” She smiled tiredly at Kahna, and with that, she turned and began trudging back down the hill toward her house.

Kahna stood up and stretched. There was no point trying to sleep any longer with all the adrenaline that had shot through her system just a minute ago. It was not much earlier than she usually rose, but the sun had still not fully risen, and with the weight of her anxiety finally lifted off her shoulders she could stare out into the sky and appreciate the beauty of it. He was fine. Not only alive, but presumably not injured. Fine. A grin spread across her face as she stared into the winter sunrise.

Kahna rushed through her daily tasks, cooking and cleaning in a haze. Her body worked and her mind wandered, thinking about exactly when the warriors would return. How they would feel. How Azriel would be. Would he and Rhysand, and Cassian just want to go home and sleep? Or would she get to talk to them? 

The sweet elderly woman who she was working for today seemed to realize Kahna was mentally elsewhere and stopped her as she was scrubbing the kitchen floor with a vacant expression. The woman gave her a sympathetic look and sent her off, far earlier than usual.

“They’ll be back soon, I’m sure he’s fine,” she told Kahna as she made to walk out the door. It was then Kahna remembered she was probably not supposed to know Azriel was, in fact, fine and the woman had probably misread her distraction for anxiety. Considering how she’d been acting all week, the woman had good reason. 

Kahna just smiled and nodded before leaving and heading straight to Ilya’s house. It was the natural path for her feet to take now, even after so few trips there. It felt more like a home than anywhere else in camp. She had barely knocked on the door before Ilya wrenched it open.

“I figured you would turn up here way earlier,” Ilya said, forgoing a proper greeting. She looked better rested than she had early that morning. 

“I had work to do, in fact I should still be doing work, but I think people can sense that I’m a little out of it today,” Kahna replied, edging in the door, past Ilya. The girl’s mother was sitting in the front room, reading, looking perfectly at peace except for the impatient tapping of one finger against the edge of her book. She looked up when Kahna entered and gave her a curt nod. Kahna smiled back and walked past her into the kitchen, her normal spot to sit with Ilya.

“You want lunch?” Ilya offered, following close behind.

“Please,” Kahna replied. She had cooked breakfast for the woman she’d been working for this morning but hadn’t taken any for herself, expecting to be there long enough to get a later meal, so she was starving. 

Ilya made their usual tea and a couple of sandwiches, refusing Kahna’s offers of assistance.

“You act like it’s physically painful to let people do things for you, honestly,” Ilya said with exasperation as she placed a plate and cup in front of Kahna on the table. 

“You’re a kid, I feel bad asking you to do things for me, especially ones that I’m perfectly capable of,” Kahna argued, though Ilya had already proven several times that she could win just about any argument she decided to engage in.

“I’m not an infant, I can make a damn sandwich,” Ilya replied, irritated now.

“Ilya,” her mother called from the other room, more weariness than true reprimand in her tone.

“Sorry Mom!” Ilya called back, her tone and face both unrepentant. She dropped into a chair across from Kahna and sipped at her own cup of tea. 

The two girls sat, eating, drinking, and talking for a couple of hours, passing the time. The buzz of excitement in the air between them became more palpable as the clock ticked.

The moment the doorknob twisted Kahna, Ilya, and her mother shot to their feet in unison. The door was pushed open only a foot and the head and shoulders of one of Ilya’s mother’s friends leaned around the door into the house.

“The warriors are back from the Rite,” he said, before leaning back out and closing the door behind himself. Kahna and Ilya started running, Ilya making it to the door first and throwing it open before continuing in a dead sprint, Kahna not far behind. Ilya’s mother followed behind them at a slower pace through the still open door of her home, smiling. 

Kahna followed a step behind Ilya all the way to the center of camp. The closer they got the more people they encountered, all heading in the same direction. When they reached the open clearing in the center of camps they saw the group of new warriors, smaller than the one that had left camp, were loosely assembled, milling about and chattering amongst themselves as the entire population of camp began to descend upon them. Kahna was scanning the men, dodging between other people, also looking for their loved ones, as she grew closer. Ilya chose a different direction and disappeared instantly. After a minute of her search, Kahna gave up looking at faces that blurred together, or were obscured by the crowd and started simply looking for the fluid darkness that would mark Azriel apart from any other Illyrian. She stopped every few feet, stretching up on her toes as more people joined the crowd, more voices cried out in joy and celebration, more people called the names of those they searched for, and more people pushed past her, buffeting her from one side to another as she searched. 

She was still searching, weaving in between the pulsing crowd when she nearly tripped and looked down. And there, looped around her ankle was a dark tendril of the shadow she had been searching for. Kahna came to a full stop and watched as it unwrapped itself and darted to her left, weaving between the feet of the crowd. She turned and started slowly in that direction, going only another few feet before she spotted him, and she began running again. 

“Fuck, Kahna, be gentle these are still fresh,” Azriel complained as Kahna half threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as tightly as she could, and somehow managing to hit every one of the new tattoos that covered is chest and crept up the sides of his neck. 

“Oh shut up, you baby, you managed to survive the hellish mountain killing spree, with, I’m sure, more than a few scrapes and bruises and you’re going to complain about me bumping your new badass warrior tattoos? While, by the way, I’m hugging you because I wasn’t even sure you weren’t fucking dead until this morning,” Kahna shot back, the venom in her voice only tempered by her relief that Azriel had actually made it home. 

“Sorry,” Azriel chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her hair, “I’m alright, I swear. I told you not to worry.” 

She pulled away from him, hands unwinding from behind his neck and tracing over his shoulders to rest lightly against his chest. Once she had proper distance, Kahna looked over his face and torso for damages. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, and a little gaunt, with his already high cheekbones protruding more than usual, but otherwise uninjured. His hair was dirty and a clump of it near his ear was stuck together with dried blood that didn’t seem to be his. A deep sense of contentment settled within her at the sight of him: home, safe, and uninjured. It was like all the panic and fear of the week melted from her body. 

“You look awful,” she observed. “Desperately in need of a shower, and a meal, and some sleep. In that order.” The corners of Azriel’s mouth twitched up.

“Wow, thank you. I’m glad to see your relief that I’m not dead hasn’t marred your ability to critique my face,” he retorted.

Kahna smiled widely, eyes crinkling at the corners, and wrapped her arms back around his neck, more gently this time. Over Azriel’s shoulder she saw Ilya with her arms around Rhysand’s waist and their mother looking over both him and Cassian, who also seemed uninjured. 

“Azriel! Get over here!” Rhysand’s mother called over to them. 

Azriel took a step back from Kahna and she untangled herself from around him. He turned and started walking toward where he’d been summoned, checking over his shoulder to make sure Kahna was following. 

When they reached the group of his chosen family, Rhysand’s mother was immediately upon Azriel checking him over of injury as Kahna had. Kahna took a moment to take a closer look at Rhysand and Cassian who she could now see also had new warrior tattoos, though they differed slightly from each other and neither reached up as far on their necks as Azriel’s did. 

“I’m glad that all of you are home safe. Not that I had any doubts,” Rhysand’s mother said, after having determined Azriel was also doing well. 

“Mom was totally worried,” Ilya piped up from behind her. This comment earned her glare from her mother. A few people passed close to their small grouping, staring at the three new warriors that stood among them.

“Are you all going to pass out the moment we get home or should I be preparing to have my wine collection decimated?” Rhysand’s mother asked. Looks were exchanged between the three men.

“Wine,” Rhysand said definitively.

“Good. Let’s get home then,” his mother replied. She turned and started weaving through the crowd in the direction of her home. Rhysand, Cassian, and Ilya followed after her immediately.

“Will you come with us?” Azriel questioned, turning to Kahna as his family left.

“Oh, yeah, you’re not getting rid of me now,” she answered, turning and taking a few steps, before Azriel caught her, surprise having made him pause. 

She stayed pressed into his side as they walked, his arm wrapped around her, following his brothers toward the house she’d spent so much time in this week. 

“You’re far less resistant to spending time with Rhys and Cassian than usual, you must’ve really missed me,” Azriel teased, squeezing her waist. 

“I did. Plus I can talk to Ilya so it won’t be too awful.”

“Ilya?” Surprise colored Azriel’s tone.

“With you gone I had no one to talk to and I think she took pity on me.”

“Thanks Ilya!” he called ahead of them. She heard and laughed, twisting around to wink at them.

The walk back seemed much shorter than the run to the center of camp had, with Azriel there. Knowing he was fine and seeing it for herself were two entirely different levels of relief. They entered the now familiar house which suddenly felt crowded, filled with so many more people than she was used to, but it was still comfortable somehow, like everyone belonged. 

She was settling onto the couch in the front room, watching, amused, as the three boys started a heated argument about who was going to bathe first, when Rhysand suddenly disappeared and there was the slam of a door from down the hall.

“That’s cheating you bastard!” Cassian yelled, while Azriel let out a long suffering sign and moved toward the couch Kahna was sitting on. Rhysand’s mother intercepted him before he had a chance to sit, grabbing him by the shoulders and redirecting him toward the kitchen. 

“None of you are sitting on my nice furniture until you’ve at least changed clothes,” she commanded, looking him over. “And cleaned off that blood.”

Azriel grimached, but allowed himself to be steered into the kitchen. Cassian looked longingly down the hall to where the sound of running water could be heard, and simply sat on the floor. His back was to the kitchen and he faced Kahna and Ilya. He seemed to quickly decide he did not want to talk to either of them so he leaned back to lay on the floor, wings splayed out, taking up most of the floor space. 

Rhysand’s mother reappeared after a moment, holding two bottles of wine, Azriel following behind her holding several glasses. He poked at Cassian’s wing with his foot, and Cassian moved to free up some space with an annoyed grunt. 

“I’m bringing you alcohol, don't be an ass,” Azriel shot at him. Cassian sat up from the floor in an instant. Kahna made eye contact with Ilya, who was giving her a knowing smile. It had been all of five minutes and the origins of Ilya’s colorful vocabulary were apparent. 

“Dearest brother, I am so truly sorry, and grateful” Cassian said as he grabbed for one of the bottles Rhysand’s mother was setting on the coffee table. Azriel handed him a glass with a roll of his eyes.

“Cassian, that entire bottle is not for you,” Rhysand’s mother said, as she took the other bottle and began pouring relatively small portions of wine into each glass.

“Of course,” Cassian replied with a grin, before pouring about half the bottle into his own glass. 

Azriel just shook his head and picked up two glasses. He turned to Kahna and handed her one before sitting on the ground leaning his back against her legs.

“Az,” Rhysand’s mother started in a threatening tone, but Azriel cut her off.

“I am not technically touching the furniture. I’m leaning on Kahna, not the couch,” Azriel argued, sipping at his wine.

“Alright, I changed my mind, I’m not glad you’re all home.” 

Azriel and Rhysand’s mother began lightly bickering, Cassian jumping in occasionally, and Kahna just watched sipping at her wine, happy to be there surrounded by the light familial atmosphere. Ilya, apparently feeling a bit left out after not being handed a glass of wine, tried to take the opportunity to steal the one left on the coffee table, only to be shooed off by her mother before she even got a hand on it.

“Absolutely not,” her mother scolded, barely sparing Ilya a glance before re-engaging in her previous conversation. 

Pouting, Ilya draped herself dramatically across the arm of the couch, and slid down until she was horizontal, head landing in Kahna’s lap and wings sprawling. Kahna had to quickly jerk her hands up, including the one still holding her glass of wine, to avoid Ilya’s head slamming into them. Azriel’s head, which was still leaning against her knees, twisted up and back in effort to see what all the commotion was about.

“Hey,” Ilya said causally, looking up at Kahna.

“You two are aware I am not a piece of furniture, correct?” Kahna asked, question aimed at both Ilya and Azriel. Kahna was used to everyone but Azriel treating her politely, but with a bit of detachment and distance. And even for Azriel this level of physical contact was out of the ordinary. It was a strange feeling for Kahna, to be so close to so many people, both physically and emotionally. Not unpleasant, but new, and slightly uncomfortable. 

Azriel sat up a little, so his back no longer rested against her shins and turned to look at her face, seemingly trying to gage if she was actually unhappy with the contact. Whatever he saw there must have reassured him, because he untwisted and collapsed back into his previous position.

“I’m fully aware, if you were furniture I wouldn’t be allowed to lean on you,” Azriel said simply, tilting his head back to smile up at her. 

“And you’re less comfortable than furniture. Too boney,” added Ilya. 

Kahna sighed, but the corners of her mouth twitched up. From down the hall the sound of a door opening had both Ilya and Cassian shooting up. With a glance at Azriel, who remained unmoving, Cassain set off down the hall toward the now empty bathroom. 

As he left, a now clean looking Rhysand emerged, hair damp and clothes changed. Ilya pushed herself off the couch and bounded over to him. 

“I want to know everything,” she said, looking up eagerly. Rhysand smiled and ruffled her hair. 

“I will, I swear, let me sit for a second first,” he responded, side stepping Ilya and grabbing the wine glass that had been left for him on the coffee table. Cassian’s near empty glass also sat on the table and Rhysand poured the remainder into his glass. He then sat in a chair next to his mother. Ilya folded herself into a sitting position on the floor near his feet. 

“A child friendly version would be appreciated, Rhys,” his mother spoke up from beside him.

“Of course,” Rhysand assured her, before leveling a sidelong glance at Ilya and mouthing “Later.” She grinned up at him and nodded enthusiastically. Their mother definitely did not miss the interaction. 

Rhysand launched into, what seemed to Kahna to be, a severely edited version of the week’s events. Azriel jumped in from his place on the floor once Rhysand got to the point where he and Cassian had run into him, explaining his first couple of days. Kahna patted the top of his head when he finished speaking. He didn’t tilt his head back to look at her again but one of his hands reached up and squeezed her hand for a moment. 

Cassian returned, looking clean and much happier, during Rhysand’s explanation of the fourth day of the Rite. Cassian grabbed his now empty glass from where Rhysand had left it and poured the remaining half of the bottle he had started into it. He settled into the remaining empty chair and started 

“Rhys, you’re leaving out the four men we ran into and-” Cassian started, eyes gleaming.

“Probably for good reason, Cassian,” Rhysand’s mother interrupted, shooting a pointed look at Ilya. 

Cassian rolled his eyes and looked at Ilya, mouthing “I’ll tell you later.” She grinned again and nodded like she had at Rhysand when he’d made the same promise. Her mother rubbed at her face looking tired.

Rhysand resumed his story. Azriel sighed and pushed himself up off the floor. He handed his empty glass to Kahna and walked off down the hall toward the bathroom. While he was gone Rhysand and Cassian finished their story, Rhysand’s mother broke out another two bottles of wine, glasses were refilled, and Rhysand started letting Ilya take tiny sips out of his glass while their mother was not looking. 

“What’d you do all week without us to make your life interesting?” Cassian asked Ilya. She glanced over at Kahna. Kahna gave her a one shoulder shrug. She has resolved herself to attempt to befriend Rhysand, thanks to Ilya. Mentioning that Ilya had started spending time with Kahna would certainly start a conversation that would give her a chance to express that, but now did not seem like an opportune moment between the spectators and how tired they all looked.

“Not too much, I was tragically bored out of my mind most of the time. That’s why I’m so glad you’re home to ruin that,” Ilya responded, scrunching her face up at Cassian. He laughed and poked her with his foot. 

“You know it,” he said with a smirk. 

Azriel re-emerged from the hall a moment later, also looking clean and wearing new clothes, hair still wet and sticking to his forehead. He sat down on the couch next to Kahna and she handed him his now refilled glass. 

“Thanks,” he whispered, squeezing her knee with the hand not holding his glass. 

Conversation flowed again, reaching out to include Azriel now that he had returned. He and Ilya occasionally looped Kahna into the discussion, but she was mostly content to remain quiet, sipping at his glass of wine that kept being refilled as more and more bottles were uncorked. When she spoke it was often in response to a question posed at her, but a few times she threw a question or comment out into the conversation at large, in response to something Rhysand or Cassian had said. This earned her an odd look from both of them, but a pleasantly surprised smile from Azriel. It became easier and less awkward as the evening wore on and the number of empty bottles on the table grew. Rhysand’s mother made dinner for them all and Kahna accepted a second meal from the woman’s kitchen that day with a grateful smile. The men surrounding her ate like they hadn’t had real food in months rather than a week, taking at least three potions each and making them disappear in moments. Any lingering tension Kahna’s presence may have caused evaporated once Rhysand and Cassian were full bellied and relaxed. And as the conversation continued it stretched out to include her almost as naturally as it did Ilya. 

It was late in the night, several hours after sunset when Azriel began to doze off next to her. He’d exited the still flowing conversation a few minutes earlier, content to tilt his head back against the couch, close his eyes, and listen. He looked better now, except for the dark circles, which had only grown more prominent as the day wore on. Ilya had already fallen asleep, carried to her bedroom after her yawning had gotten loud enough for Rhysand to notice.

“Sleep,” Kahna whispered, nudging Azriel with her elbow. He only hummed in response, but his breathing grew slower, and his head slowly tilted to one side until it rested on Kahna’s shoulder. She smiled and pressed her cheek against his hair. It may have been all the wine running through her but she felt an unfamiliar warmth in the center of her chest. It warmed her from the inside out, as she stayed there, watching the flow of shadows around Azriel become slower too, their movement twisting into lazy swirling patterns.

“You might want to shove his head to the other side if you’d like to move anytime in the near future,” Rhysand said, his tired voice making Kahna look up. She realized, like Azriel, Cassian seemed to have fallen asleep in his chair, and Rhysand didn’t seem far behind. Kahna grinned at him.

“You might be right. All three of you look like you could pass out for a good twelve hours,” she replied, before lightly pushing Azriel’s head off her shoulder. He hummed quietly, seemingly in discontent, but leaned his head against the back of the couch instead without opening his eyes. “I should probably head home too, let you all get some well deserved sleep.”

Home. As she said the word it didn’t feel like an apt description of where she lived. Not while she was sitting here in someone’s true home.

“You can come back in the morning, check on them and have some breakfast, if you want,” Rhysand’s mother offered. Rhysand turned to her, eyebrows raised. 

Kahna knew she had an open invitation to come and go, but she’d only heard so from Ilya. It was different to be invited by her mother, more official, and to be offered a free meal on top of that was more kindness than she’d ever expected from the woman. 

“Thank you, ma’am, I’d love to,” Kahan said, smiling. In all the time she had spent here this week this was the first time the woman had spoken to her directly.

“Oh Mother, please don’t call me ma'am, it makes me sound so old,” Rhysand’s mother complained, a hint of the smirk her son usually wore playing on her lips. “Callia is fine.” 

“I feel like I’ve missed something,” Rhysand said, looking between his mother and Kahna.

“Go to bed, Rhys,” his mother responded. “Or be helpful and drag your brothers to their beds.”

Kahna smiled as Rhysand groaned and stood, muttering something under his breath that earned him a light smack on the shoulder from Callia. Kahna stood too, making sure not to jostle Azriel too much as she did. She was reluctant to leave, as if the moment she stepped out the door the spell would break and this sense of being warm and welcome would be impossible to find ever again. But she did. She grabbed her jacket from the kitchen and said a brief goodbye to Callia and Rhysand, glancing once at Azriel’s sleeping form before walking out the door.

As she walked away from the still bright home into the cold dark of the night the feeling of warmth that had filled her chest dimmed a bit, but it remained long enough for her to make it up the hill and get her freezing fingers to start a little fire.


	5. Fight Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was having some writer's block on this chapter so I went and wrote an entire 5K word little Amren mini fic in the mean time so if that sounds like your jam, go and check it out. Your comments are loved and appreciated and motivate me so much so keep letting me know what you think.

“You get along fine these days. I don’t understand why you’re so resistant today,” Azriel argued.

“Az,” Kahna started slowly, “that’s because I can usually use Ilya as a buffer. And I don’t have to interact directly with Cassian. And I’m not actively inviting him to critique me.” 

“Look, if you get good enough to land hits then you’ll get the opportunity to punch him,” Azriel sighed.

“Well. That’s quite the incentive actually. Why can’t you just train me yourself and once I’m decent let me take a crack at Cassian?”

“If you know you’re going to have to fight someone specific the best thing to do is study them. Watch how they move, learn how they think. That way you can know their weaknesses and predict what they’re going to do next in a fight. If you want to fight Cassian, you should train with him. Though I would really prefer if you and Cassian got along.” 

Azriel was leading her through the darkening forest away from camp. He had been back a week now and Kahna had spent most of her free time since in Callia’s house. Consequently, her relationship with Rhysand had improved. After it had become clear that his mother and sister had decided she was welcome in their home Rhysand had decided there must be something about her worth taking interest in. This had led to several interrogation-like conversations between Rhysand and Kahna, which Azriel found absolutely hilarious.

“How long have you been talking to Ilya?” Rhysand had asked her.

“Since a few days after you all left for the Rite,” Kahna replied hesitantly.

“What do you two talk about?”

“I don’t know, life? You guys? Nothing in particular, really? Why do you-”

Rhysand cut her off with another question. “How do you spend your time when you’re not here?”

“Mostly working. Sometimes I sit on the hill and wonder if they teach the warrior trainees the finer details of social niceties.”

Azriel, who was standing next to her, snorted and pressed his lips together to prevent a full smile from breaking out. Rhysand shot a glare at him but his gaze quickly slid back to Kahna as he continued to fire off questions. 

While the conversations tended to be very one sided, Kahna actively tried to be nice, and it had ultimately led to a slightly friendlier overall relationship. 

Cassian was another story. He still tended to avoid Kahna, even though they often occupied the same space. On one the few occasions Kahna and Azriel spent time alone outside the house he told her that, after being pestered by Ilya for several days, Cassian had announced that he would attempt to be nicer to Kahna. Or at least not ignore her. He had then, apparently, given Azriel quite the out of the blue suggestion. 

“Cassian told me and Rhys today that he thinks we should train you,” Azriel had told her.

“Train me in what? Fighting? Why? And why does Cassian care?” Kahna responded, utterly confused. 

“Yes fighting, and because it’s never a bad idea to know how to defend yourself. I think he’s right about that. As for why Cassian cares, I have no idea, but it seems like an effort of some sort to help you so I’ve chosen not to question it,” Azriel said with a smile, and that was that.

Tonight they were due to start her training. No female in any Illyrian camp was allowed to receive training in any kind of combat, even the simplest forms of self defense, hence the nighttime trek through the forest. Rhysand had found them a clearing in the forest about a mile outside camp that no one else was likely to stumble upon, but due to the frequency of scouts and soldiers flying in and out of camp during the daylight hours, the cover of darkness was also a necessary precaution.

When they finally broke through the last of the trees Rhysand and Cassian were already waiting. 

“Finally,” Cassian groaned. He and Rhysand were standing at the opposite edge of the clearing and neither looked compelled to move, so Kahna and Azriel crossed the clearing to meet them. 

“Firstly, to protect your hands,” Azriel said, pulling two wound strips of thick fabric from his pocket. “Wrap three times around your wrist.” His actions mirrored his instruction, rough fingers twisting the cloth tightly over her outstretched hand. “Then three times around your knuckles, and in between each finger. This is just for training of course, it’ll support your wrist and pad your knuckles so when you throw a punch you won’t hurt yourself. If you’re ever actually defending yourself don’t worry about it.”

“No, if you’re being attacked and forced to fight back you should definitely ask politely for a pause to wrap your hands,” interjected Cassian with a roll of his eyes. Azriel twisted his head around to glare at Cassian for a moment as he finished wrapping Kahna’s hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. 

“I think the best thing to start with is a proper fighting stance and just basic jabs and crosses,” Rhysand suggested.

“I thought we were teaching her self defense. Practical shit. It’s useless to train her like a warrior when no one fighting her is going to act like one,” Cassian said, mouth twisting into an unhappy expression.

“Do you have a suggestion, or just objections?” Azriel asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, my first suggestion would be that you let me or Rhys do this. You actually like her,” Cassian said, jerking his head toward Kahna, but speaking as though she wasn’t there. “You’re going to go easy on her, which in the long run, will only hinder her.” Azriel opened his mouth to protest but Cassian cut him off. 

“My second suggestion is we teach her real self defense. Not how to fight like us, or throw a proper punch, but something she could actually use.” 

Cassian pushed off the tree he had been leaning against and strode over to where Kahna and Azriel were standing, positioning himself half a step behind Kahna, facing Azriel. “For example,” he started, a mischievous glint in his eyes. In one quick motion Cassain’s arm shot out and grabbed one of Kahna’s wrists. Before she could even react, Cassian jerked her arm behind her back, and grabbed her other wrist. Kahna, disoriented and slightly panicked, lost her footing and stumbled back a step until her back hit Cassian’s chest. 

“What the hell?” Kahna gasped, struggling to pull herself free, but Cassian’s grasp on her wrists was too solid. 

“What she should be learning is how to break free of this. Where to hit with her elbows, or how to twist her legs around mine to trip me. No amount of classic fighting techniques will help her with that,” Cassian explained, still addressing Azriel. 

“I still think fighting stances might be a good idea. That wouldn’t have been half as easy as it was if she had been properly grounded,” Rhysand added, still standing a few feet away, but looking between Cassian’s smug face and Azriel’s dark expression with amusement. 

Kahna gave up struggling and just stood, waiting. Her thoughts were chaotic, locked in a confused argument that neither side seemed to be winning. On one hand, she could see that Cassian was correct. She couldn’t break free of his grasp, and if someone was going to attack it was far more likely to be like this than a fist fight. Learning to defend herself practically would be more beneficial. On the other hand, ever since she had set foot in this clearing both Rhysand and Cassian’s gazes seemed to either pass over her like she didn’t exist or rake over her for the sole purpose of searching out flaws. It was humiliating to stand there, trapped and listen to them talk about her as if she couldn’t understand them. Her pride and stubbornness pushed against accepting any help or instruction from either of them. Azriel was the only one who seemed to remember that she was, in fact, a person. 

“You’ve made your point, let her go,” he said, eyes narrowed and expression unhappy.

Kahna felt Cassian’s hands released her and he looked down as though he had forgotten he still held her immobile. She twisted away from him and backed up until she was standing at Azriel’s side. She wrapped her arms around herself, hands grabbing at the material of her shirt. She felt, rather than saw, Azriel’s shadows wind around her ankles, the familiar cool swish of breeze that soothed her enough to release some of the tension from her shoulders. 

“So you agree?” Cassian asked, question again directed at Azriel. 

“I’d like to remind everyone that I am still here. In case you would like to talk to me, instead of about me,” Kahna said, glaring pointedly at Cassian. He glanced at her and opened his mouth to respond, but Azriel cut in before he had the chance.

“What do you want to do?”

Maybe Kahna should have let them argue about her a little longer. She still wasn’t sure. Rhysand, sensing the rising tension, walked over to join them and now three sets of eyes bored into her, waiting for her to take a side. 

“Cassian, I agree with you. I want to learn practical self defense and how to prevent things like that. But I don’t want to train with you.”

“Why?” Cassian asked, bewildered.

“You just grabbed me, out of nowhere, without talking to me, to make a point. I can’t say I appreciated it, or that that’s a style of training I want,” Kahna argued. 

“What if Cassian instructs from a distance and Az can demonstrate. He’ll be the only person to actually touch you, since I assume you trust him far more than either of us,” Rhysand suggested calmly before Cassian had the chance to reply.

“I’d be comfortable with that,” she agreed. It was a good compromise, one that both sides of the argument in her brain accepted.

It took about two minutes for Kahna to realize her words were going to come back and bite her in the ass. She was standing in the middle of the clearing, back pressed tightly to Azriel’s chest, one of his arms wrapped around her waist, the other just a few inches higher pinning her arms to her sides. She was not comfortable. She was actually distinctly uncomfortable in several ways she did not have the time or mental capacity to examine at the moment with Cassian glaring at just her a few feet away. Rhysand, having completed his self assigned role as mediator, had resumed his lounging, taking a seat on the grass and looking at her with a smile that said he was absolutely aware of what was going on in her head. 

“Think. What is the best way to get out of this?” Cassian asked.

“Aren’t you supposed to be telling me how to do that?” Kahna replied, hoping this was going to be a very brief demonstration. 

“Learning to think for yourself will get you much further than memorizing moves or techniques. Again, think,” he commanded.

Kahna thought about it. She did not have the strength in her arms to pry Azriel’s hands off her and they were still stuck at her sides. That ruled out hitting him in the ribs with her elbow, too. She could only really push away from her sides, and not more than an inch before Azriel’s arms blocked her. If she were stronger, she might be able to push out hard enough to break his hold, but she did not have that kind of power in her arms.

“Flare my wings? Like push outward and try and push his arms out and away from me?” Kahna asked. With how sensitive her wings were and how uncomfortable she already was with her proximity to Azriel, the idea sent her heart racing. 

“Decent thought. But there’s a very good possibility Azriel’s hold on you, were he not being very gentle, would be stronger enough to withstand that. And if it wasn’t it could grab onto your wings which creates a whole other set of problems.” 

“Okay, I can see that,” Kahna replied, relieved. She struggled slightly in Azriel’s hold, trying to search for any weak points. She found none, and Azriel only tightened his hold around her, pulling her slightly closer into his chest.

“What’s the part of your body you could produce the largest amount of force with?” Cassian asked.

Kahna stood still and thought. Her wings, probably. Before they’d been cut they’d been fully capable of lifting her whole body off the ground, and they were still decently powerful. But he’d ruled them out already.

“All of it,” Azriel stage whispered in her ear. His warm breath brushed against her ear and sent goosebumps up her spine. She was already tense and uncomfortable with the close contact and being stared down by Cassian and this was only making it worse. She could not even attempt to process the three words he had spoken; her mind had gone entirely blank. 

“Boo. You’re not supposed to just give her the answer,” complained Cassian, snapping Kahna back to the task at hand. She tried to untangle her thoughts from the confused knots Azriel sent them into.

“We are attempting to teach her, Cass, not haze her,” Rhysand said from the ground. His tone was joking, but when Cassian looked down at him, Rhysand’s expression shifted into something more serious for just a moment. Kahna and Azriel were too busy staring at each other to notice.

“The force of your body weight and gravity is your best asset here,” Azriel continued, at a normal volume. “If you start to pull forward and down you have the best chance of breaking free. You want to keep yourself balanced enough that you aren’t going to fall on the ground if I do let go, but bend your knees and drop your weight downward.”

Kahna followed his directions, bending her knees, moving her weight into the balls of her feet, and pulling herself down. She felt his body lean with her, now supporting most of her weight on his arms.

“Good, now since he didn’t let go, your best bet is your feet and your skull. If you can step on his feet or kick him sufficiently painfully for him to look down, you can knock your head back with a good bit of force and that hit to the face should be good enough to get him to let go. And possibly break his nose,” Cassian said, returning to his role as instructor. 

“Okay, that makes sense,” Kahna said, nodding slowly, but otherwise remaining still in her slightly crouched position.

“Go ahead then.”

“You just said that could break Azriel’s nose, so I think I’ll stick to the theoretical on this one,” Kahna replied, slowly pushing back up into a normal standing position.

“And I thank you for that,” Azriel said. He squeezed her waist gently, then released his arms from around her. She had never felt so glad to take a step away from him and feel the cool night air against her back.

“Useless. Both of you. I cannot believe what I have to put up with,” Cassian complained.

“More like hopeless,” muttered Rhysand. 

Cassian talked her through another five ways to break free of different holds, then decided that if she was not going to actually practice them she could at least attempt to get strong enough to make them more likely to be effective on the first attempt. 

“Conditioning. This will help build up a good amount of muscle, which you need. We’ll start with core today, and then some cardio,” Cassian explained.

“Wait, I want to learn to properly fight. What’s the point of being able to break free of someone holding me if I can’t actually fight them?” Kahna objected. 

“To run,” Cassian replied very slowly, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. Rhysand kicked him in the shin.

“If she wants to learn, we’ll teach her,” Rhysand told him.

Rhysand ran her through a few fighting stances and how to ground herself, then two basic punches, making her repeat them over and over again until she was twisting her hips and core in just the right way for maximum power. Then, Cassian had started her on his conditioning and stolen every ounce of energy from her body. It had grown dark, the last of twilight having faded into inky black when he finally declared her done for the day. She was exhausted and sore, and knew it would all be even worse tomorrow, so despite her lingering irritation at him, she managed to shoot Cassian a grateful look, which he dutifully ignored. 

“You should take a break tomorrow, and make sure to eat. You could come over for dinner if you’re not cooking, and I’ll make sure Rhys’s mom feeds you,” Azriel offered. Kahna was fairly certainly Callia would feed her regardless of if Azriel asked, as both she and Ilya had a tendency to shove food in front of Kahna whenever she was around and glare at her until she ate. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice, I don’t have anything to do in the evening tomorrow,” Kahna replied, rolling her shoulders and wincing slightly. Azriel watched her closely and gave her an apologetic twitch of his lips.

“That’s going to get worse before it gets better. Sleep as much as you can tonight, that should help a little.”

“Okay, I’ll be going then to try and pass out before I start to really feel it. Night,” she replied with a smile. She turned and started off back into the forest in the direction that would take her up the backside of the hill, while Azriel turned to where his brothers were waiting a few yards away, chatting idly and facing toward the shortest path back to the north side of camp. Rhysand and Azriel started off through the trees immediately, but Cassian paused, looking between Kahna’s retreating back and Azriel. 

It took Kahna longer than she’d like to admit to realize she was being followed. Over the years, Azriel had taught her a variety of things, from how to lie convincingly to how to detect and evade people following her. She would like to have blamed it on the fact that she was tired, but really she rarely ever paid the kind of attention it would have taken to sense him behind her in the forest. However, once the woods thinned and the steep incline of the hill began, one look behind her had Kahna realizing she was not alone. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Kahna shot over her shoulder at the man.

“Walking with you back up the hill,” Cassian answered simply, as though that should have been obvious.

“Of course, well, you see, as I can walk all by myself I don’t think that’s really necessary,” Kahna replied, irritation clear in her voice. 

“It’s late and it’s dark.”

“I had noticed, thanks, but since I walk up here every night, I think I’m fine.” 

“I don’t know how Az lets you do that. I guess he’s never lived up here.” 

Kahna stopped and turned to face him. She had been trying this week to be nice to Cassian, and when she couldn’t manage that, at least civil, but her irritation was overpowering her exhaustion-worn resolve. 

“Nobody ‘lets’ me do anything, and I’m fine up here, it’s never been an issue,” she snapped. The second part of that statement was a lie. She’d had a few skirmishes with other inhabitants of the hill over the years, and fear of waking up with a knife at her throat still plagued her. 

“You’ve lived up there far longer than I did, I know that. I assume you have some rapport with everyone. I assume your friendship with Az buys you some modicum of protection.” He took a step closer. “But you know as well as I do that everyone up here is given nothing. They are desperate. If food runs scarce, most of them have nothing to lose. They will take it from anyone who’s an easy target, by force if necessary.” 

“I don’t need some lecture on what you think my life is like,” she said, indignant. “I managed to keep myself in one piece before you came alone, even before Az got here, and I can continue to do that without you.” 

“See that’s what I’m trying to get you to understand. I disagree. That’s why I am trying to make you take your own safety seriously. Az matters to me, and you matter to him. But he won’t be around to protect you forever, you get that right? And when you're alone, here, as a full grown woman, you will not be safe in the same way you were when you were a child.”

That defused her anger some. While Kahna still disagreed with him, it seemed like this all came from a place of genuine concern and she was too tired to keep arguing, so, with a sigh, she turned and continued her walk up the hill, offering no further comment as Cassian trailed behind her.


End file.
